The Blackest of Nights
by Little Miss Bovver
Summary: The aftermath of Finn raping JP. John Paul doesn't know where to turn. Will he open up to his family? Light John Paul/Ste, basically his thoughts afterwards. Rated M for sensitive issue. One-Shot.


**Pairings/Characters**: John Paul/Ste (very light), mention of Finn

**Rated**: M for dark angst

**Disclaimer**: I own nothing, the characters for borrowed from C4'S Hollyoaks.

**A/N**: Hello! So, I've wrote this today (without seeing E4 episode of the rape aftermath) as it was playing around my mind all week and wouldn't leave me alone, so here we are. It's a little dark, though I don't think I've included anything too graphic than what we already know. I just wanted to write how John Paul would feel, so I hope it has come across well. Thank you for reading.

The Blackest of Nights

I

John Paul wasn't sure how long he'd been lying in the darkness of the classroom, his shallow breathing and the rhythmic ticking of the clock the only thing heard. His trousers were still caught around his ankles, trapping him in the same cramped position, no energy to move.

That's if he _could_ move, body in agony, legs painful.

His mouth was dry, eyes stinging raw from the tears that hadn't ceased. His head throbbed from being hit and the muscles in his thighs screaming, excruciated.

Somehow, John Paul clambered to his feet, tugging up his trousers and sobbing from the pain. His hands were shaking too much to even do up his own belt.

He stumbled to the bin and threw up, fingers gripping the plastic tight. It left him feeling dizzy, sick and he couldn't focus.

He needed to get out of here. John Paul couldn't stop trembling, clenching his fists tight as he managed to escape the school, gulping deep lungfuls of bitingly cool air. His mind was racing, questions chasing questions as waves of agony swept his body with each step.

_Rape_. The word flitted around his head before he could block it, taunting him. Rape. John Paul had been raped.

He collapsed in the road outside the Deli, the damp seeping through his trousers, cheek pressed against the cold, hard ground. He'd been violated, tarnished, but he felt disgusted at himself. He should have done more, he should have fought back.

Finn was a sixteen year old boy.

The thought made him retch and John Paul sobbed, fighting the urge to scream his despair.

And then he heard a door open nearby, hurried footsteps. And suddenly there was someone at his side, an anxious face filling his vision, gripping his shoulder tight.

'John Paul? _John Paul!'_

II

'Are you going to tell me what happened?' Ste was pressing an ice pack to the back of John Paul's head, his fingers lightly brushing the stained blood on his collar.

John Paul sat at the table, clasping a hot mug of coffee between shaking hands. The queasiness hadn't left him and every time he shut his eyes, all he could see was Finn, the events replaying in his head like a broken tape.

John Paul reached up and took the ice pack. Ste moved to sit on the table edge, staring at him intently.

'Someone hit you,' Ste continued. 'There's blood on your shirt.'

John Paul looked away, shifting uncomfortably. He barely remembered being hit, but his head throbbed painfully against the bright lights overhead. Ste sighed, shoving his hands in his trouser pockets. He was wearing a dark shirt, the top few buttons open. 'Sorry I missed your birthday,' he mumbled.

'Forget my birthday,' Ste muttered. 'Tell me what happened.'

John Paul stiffened in the chair and took a gulp of coffee. Setting the cup down, he stared into the dark depths. 'I got mugged on the way home. It was nothing.' Ste's eyes never left his face and he found himself having to bite his tongue, the words ready to spill free.

_I've been raped. By my own student. _

How would Ste take that? How would _anyone_ take that?

How could this have happened?

'Was it was that little arsehole, Finn?' Ste was persistent. 'Cause I can go and sort him out if you like?' John Paul's fingers clenched around the cup and he was sure the porcelain would shatter at any moment.

'Everything's fine,' he replied numbly, his voice subdued. 'They took my wallet, that's all.' Ste looked disbelieving and John Paul had to fight the urge to jump up and leave. It was like he had the words printed on his forehead. A walking billboard for male rape.

He felt sick again and surged away from the table. Ste jumped up, startled. 'Are you sure you're all right?' he frowned, stepping forward cautiously. 'You're acting weird.'

John Paul's mouth was dry and he struggled to form words. 'It's just been a really bad day. I should go home.' But, he didn't move. He didn't want to go home. Couldn't face the questions, the worry. He swayed on the spot, the dizziness returning and suddenly Ste was at his side.

'Maybe you should sit down,' Ste grunted, helping him into the chair. He stayed close, hands resting on the tops of his arms, unknowingly pressing against bruises. John Paul tried not to wince. 'You can tell me, y'know.' Ste's voice was quiet and he crouched beside the chair. 'If you need somebody to listen.'

John Paul searched his face. He wanted to open up, he desperately wished he could. But, the shame was too much, burning through him like a raging fire, blackening his core. 'Why do bad things happen to good people?' he asked. Ste stared. 'Like Doug. Doug had such a good heart.'

Ste glanced away. 'Why are you talking like this?'

John Paul couldn't answer. Silence lapsed between them. Ste finally looked up, searching his face. 'I always ask myself the same question. Why Doug? Why not me? I was a little bastard when I was growing up and I've done some awful things. To Amy, to Doug.' He shook his head, sadly. 'Please talk to me, John Paul.'

John Paul looked back at him. Ste's hand was resting on his, warm and reassuring. 'I'm sorry.'

'What for?'

John Paul got to his feet, Ste straightening up and watching him carefully. 'I have to go.' He turned, heading for the door.

'Wait!' Ste followed him around the table, grabbing his wrist to pull him to a stop. 'Why won't you tell me?'

John Paul stood, muscles aching and head throbbing. He didn't meet Ste's eye. 'I just need to be home. I... I can't tell you yet.' One day, perhaps, if the shame ever left him. Right now, he wanted to do nothing, but hide away, disappear and never be seen.

He never wanted to lay eyes on Finn O'Connor again.

Ste stepped forward. 'I'm here if you need someone to listen,' he said with a small smile, and kissed the corner of his mouth. John Paul flushed and shifted towards the door.

'Night, Ste.'

'Goodnight.'

III

John Paul approached the McQueen household with hesitant steps. He'd thought about a lot of things on the way home. Ste and his offer. Calling the police. Telling his family. Telling Diane. That he'd been raped by her son.

_Raped by a boy. A pupil!_ His cheeks flared and he had to breathe deeply to stop from throwing up on the doorstep. The facts still hadn't sunk in; already his body was paying the price.

He felt bruised, torn and broken. Destroyed. His life was in tatters.

_How_ could this have happened? The bullying and abuse that was one thing, but... John Paul's throat felt tight and constricted and he squeezed his eyes shut, exhaled slowly-

The door swung open and Mercedes staggered out, clutching a glass of wine. 'Look at you. Someone's obviously drank too much on their date.' She pouted big red lips, and then slurped from the glass. John Paul pushed his way inside, limping into the hallway. The front room was empty, other than Nanna watching _Take Me Out_ on the TV, short legs propped up on the coffee table.

Mercedes slammed the door shut behind them. He tried to make his getaway to the stairs, but the older woman settled him a beady stare.

'Did you have fun with Ste?' John Paul stopped at the bottom of the stairs, looking back at Marlena. He shrugged.

'It was fun.'

She frowned at him, as Mercedes plonked herself down in the armchair. 'Are you sure you're okay? You look a bit pale.'

John Paul gave a nod and forced a smile, foot creaking on the first step. 'I'm fine, Nanna. I've just had one too many.'

He lay in bed that night, sheets cool against his skin and he wondered what was going to happen tomorrow. He rolled onto his side and clutched his pillow tight.

Hopefully, he wouldn't even wake up.

**So, a little darker there, I'm sorry guys, I didn't want to write anything long, but I hope you all like it. Drop me a review and let me know what you think! **


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